


Ice Ice Baby (Too Cold)

by orbingarrow



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Fluff, Friendship Is The Best Ship, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, M/M, Rhodey is a dad!, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Zamboni Antics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 04:33:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6839227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orbingarrow/pseuds/orbingarrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark is a star center, sidelined by a slip in sobriety.  Steve Rogers is a goalie, suspended for a punch thrown off the ice.</p><p>When the two meet, they're trying to get their lives back on track, both off and on the ice.  It turns out, the saying is true: A burden shared is a burdened halved.  At least until Howard Stark gets involved.</p><p>(A get together fic full of fluff, supportive friends, dad Rhodey, and hockey!  But if you know nothing about hockey, you'll be fine, because neither does the author.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stop!

**Author's Note:**

> If you are a hockey expert please forgive me for the sins against your game. I tried, I really did! <3
> 
> Art by Angel.

Steve has to rescue the newspaper from the trashcan and dust off coffee grounds and some food scraps, before he can read the unflattering Letter to the Editor about himself. Bucky must have thrown it away before he left to catch the team bus. Steve really can’t blame him. Buck has always been protective. Overly protective. And in some ways this most recent batch of hateful press has been harder on Bucky than it has on Steve.

At least Steve isn’t taking it quite so personally.

What he has taken quite personally is his temporary suspension from the team. Yes, he probably deserves it for punching Rumlow off the ice. But other people have done that before and gotten punished with less. No. This isn’t about Steve’s momentary temper flare. This is because the coaches think he’s a distraction.

And in the second half of the season, the team can’t afford that. Maybe if the NHL was still around. Things were more lenient then. But that’s not the case with the World Hockey League. The WHL system is brutal and a screw up mid-season can have a ripple effect all the way to the end. The Brooklyn Stars can’t afford even the tiniest slip in concentration.

And that’s what Steve is to them. An embarrassment. A mess. An error.

Steve leans back against the wall and tries not to think about it. It’s easier not to.

He glances back down at the paper.

Reading about himself is mistake. He thought he could handle this one. Sam had texted and said it wasn’t that bad. He was wrong.

Steve throws the newspaper back in the trash and goes to the sink to wash his hands. A look at the clock tells him he has a half an hour before he needs to leave for the Hockey for the Heart event. He should probably shower, shave and get dressed.

There’s really not much he wants to do less, but if he wants to prove to the coaches that he’s got his shit together, that’s what this is going to take.

Go to the event. Get through the night without incident. Move on.

He can do this.

*

“Fuck, fucking, shit, balls, asswipe!” Tony shouts down the stairs.

“Tell me how you really feel!” Rhodey calls up.

“I don’t think you want to hear it,” Tony yells back.

“It’s two hours,” Rhodey says.

Tony can hear him walking slowly up the stairs. He resists the urge to throw anything in Rhodey’s general direction.

“I don’t need a nanny to get me ready and out of the house,” Tony insists. “Dad can go fuck himself.”

“Don’t think of me as the nanny,” Rhodey says. “Think of me as the dude who shows up, makes sure you’ve showered, puts you in a suit, and gives you a shove toward a car.”

He comes around the corner and Tony glares at him from where he’s sitting on the floor.

“That makes you sound like a date,” Tony sulks. “I don’t want to date you. That’s incest.”

Rhodey laughs. “Not incest. I thank God every single day that we aren’t related. Come on. Get up. You’ve got to go to this thing. You’ve got to show the world that last week was a blip on the road to recovery. You’ve been sober for more than a year, Tones. One slip up doesn’t have to ruin everything you’ve worked for.”

“Correction. I’ve been sober for… 6 days,” Tony says. “It was a year before that. And I’m not going.”

“It’s Hockey for the Heart. How bad can it be?”

“I want to stay home and watch the game.”

Tony’s team-- the Manhattan Rampage-- is only one win away from first in their division. And even if they’re going to get there without Tony, he still wants to watch.

“Don’t do this to yourself,” Rhodey says. “What good is it going to do watching your team play without you?”

Tony shrugs. “It’s better than some stupid fundraiser where some asshole reporter is going to ask me about my new DWI.”

“Your dad will be there. And Obadiah. They’ll keep the press away.”

“Even better,” Tony says, feeling more unimpressed by the second. “Can’t you come?”

“It’s for the rich and famous only,” Rhodey says. “And I’m neither of those things.”

“Then come as my date. A bro date,” Tony says.

“M’not your date, bro. And I’ve got Jenny for the weekend. I’m picking her up as soon as I get you out the door.”

It’s the one excuse Tony can’t argue with. Rhodey doesn’t get to see his daughter enough as it. He really isn’t going to try and get in the way of that.

“Fine,” Tony says. “I’m moving. Look.”

Tony takes a step toward his bathroom.

“That’s better,” Rhodey says. “And tomorrow, Jenny and I will come by after breakfast. She’s been begging to skate. You could join us?”

Tony shrugs again. His whole life is a big damn shrug at this point.

“Fine,” he says. “At least Jenny’s not a dick like the rest of you.”

“I’m sure she’ll be glad to hear that,” Rhodey says.

Tony gets to his bedroom and turns back to his friend. “I’ll go. You don’t have to stay to watch me out the door.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow. Be good tonight.”

“I’m always good,” Tony says.

“Yeah. And I’m the damn pope.”

Tony waves him off, then closes his bedroom door behind himself so Rhodey will just leave already.

There’s really not much he wants to do less, but if he’s going to prove to the world that he’s got his shit together, this is what it’s going to take.

Go to the event. Get through the night without incident. Move on.

He can do this.

He’s just not sure he wants to.

*

Steve’s not expecting to see anyone he recognizes. Especially not any fellow hockey players. Considering it’s Tony Stark, the presence of another pro doesn’t really bring Steve any comfort.

When Stevewas outed in the press, his own team had been great. Supportive. Protective. Most of them had already known, so it wasn’t a surprise. 

The opposing teams were a different story. Steve’s not even convinced they’re homophobic so much as they were looking for a way to get him off his game and as much as he hates to admit it, it had worked.

He hadn’t played Tony’s team in those two weeks between the news breaking and Steve’s suspension from his team, but Tony has a reputation for being an asshole. best case scenario is that they manage to ignore each other all night. He’s really not in the mood to take any shit from anyone and after punching Rumlow, Steve isn’t going to make it back on the team this season if he gets into it with Stark.

Thankfully, Tony seems to have the same plan.

It’s almost like they’ve choreographed this, seeing how well they avoid each other.

When Steve’s at the buffet, Tony’s getting a refill of what is hopefully water. (Steve might not like the guy, but he’d also been sad to hear about the drinking relapse.) When Tony’s at the buffet, Steve makes sure he’s somewhere else.

The food is pretty good, so buffet trips are plentiful. They still manage never to get within 10 feet of each other. At least until they are straight-up wrangled by a bossy old woman that barely comes up to Steve’s chest into getting a picture together with her. She grabs Steve by the hand and drags him over to Tony’s side.

“My grandchildren are all big hockey fans. I don’t know that you two are the best role models, but they’d still want to see this.”

Steve flinches slightly at the comment because up until two weeks ago his nickname had been Captain America because he was so damn wholesome, and now he’s outed as gay and he punches _one_ guy and--

“No, you know what?” Tony asks, taking a step away from the woman. “I’m not going to be in your picture, because you’re right. I’m a shitty role model. If I had kids I’d hope they weren’t anything like me. But Rogers, here? He’s a good man. And I’m not sure what crawled up everyone’s collective asses and died but--”

“Mr. Stark, it’s fine,” Steve says gently.

Partly because the old woman looks about ready to fall over from shock and partly because Steve’s just not sure what to make of the heartfelt defense.

“It’s not fine,” Tony disagrees. “Just because she’s ancient doesn’t mean she gets to be rude.”

The woman huffs indignantly and stomps away.

“Thanks?” Steve asks. “I think.”

“S’not a problem,” Tony says. “I don’t like how they’re treating you in the press. Can’t do much about that, but I’m not going to let it happen right in front of me. Being gay’s not a crime.”

Steve can’t stop himself from smiling. Sure, Bucky would defend him to the death but this is the first time an almost stranger has stood up for him.

“Then thanks, definitely,” Steve amends. “I saw you were suspended, too. Didn’t expect anyone else from the league to be here tonight. And then I thought maybe you were avoiding me.”

“I was,” Tony admits. “I’m not in the mood for another lecture and everyone knows you’re a Boy Scout.”

“Well, a gay Boy Scout who punched somebody,” Steve says. “Think that means they’ve taken all my merit badges away.”

“Fuck them,” Tony says, loudly. 

Loud enough that people skirt around them and Steve just shakes his head and smiles again because there’s a definite part of him that wishes he could swear publicly like that. Sure, he swears in his head and in private just fine, but his mum raised him for polite company. Old habits die hard.

“I think I’d rather just ride it all out and get back to hockey,” Steve says. “Though I do appreciate you stepping in. It’s been a rough couple of weeks.”

“You wanna blow this popsicle stand?” Tony asks. “I’ve got a car here, and I swear I haven’t had anything stronger than a water with lime.”

“I’m not worried,” Steve says. “But aren’t you? I mean… if you’re seen with me, people are going to talk.”

“I thought we established that we aren’t giving one single fuck what people are thinking tonight?” Tony asks with the sort of grin that can only mean trouble. But the good kind of trouble, Steve thinks.

“Okay,” Steve says. “Yes. As long as it doesn’t involve watching my team play hockey without me, I’m in.”

“Not a big fan of that myself,” Tony agrees. “But it’s just the watching you don’t want to do, right? Any problem with playing?”

“You want to go to a rink at this time of night?” Steve asks. 

Not that he hasn’t spent long, long nights in ice rinks before, but he’s lost his privileges to his home ice for now and nothing else is going to be open.

“I’ve got us covered.”

*

By ‘got us covered’ Steve had assumed Tony meant he had the keys to a rink somewhere. It hadn’t occurred to him in any way that Tony might have an ice rink at his mansion. Or that Tony would _take_ him to his mansion. Basically, mansions did not factor into Steve’s thinking, ever.

He makes a good living. He earns his money doing the thing he loves. What Tony has is well beyond that.

It figures, really. The Starks are a Hockey Dynasty. And the Stark family owns everything from a skate factory all the way up to a professional hockey team, and a piece of the pie everywhere in between. Plus they’d had money even before hockey was in the picture. That’s why they have a fancy skyscraper named after them in downtown Manhattan.

Knowing all that doesn't make the experience of spending time with Tony any less surreal.

They take Tony’s crazy expensive car to his crazy expensive house that has a state of the art ice rink and even a zamboni. A _zamboni_.

Tony catches Steve eyeing it enviously.

“You want to take it for a drive?” Tony asks.

“Seriously?” Steve asks. He knows his face is probably lit up like Christmas morning.

Sure, he’s ridden on zambonis a few times. He has never, ever gotten to drive one.

“I’ve got to warn you, it’s not as fun as it looks. It can be a little complicated at first.”

“Don’t care about fun,” Steve says, because he’s pretty sure if it was the worst thing in the world it was still going to be fun. “I’m a lot more worried about wrecking it.”

That gets a laugh out of Tony. “When I was younger I drove through a wall or two. Nothing that can’t be fixed.”

Steve shakes his head. “I’d never stop feeling bad about it if I did that.”

“I’ll hop up there with you,” Tony offers. “Show you the ropes. Then we can skate.”

It turns out, for about an hour and half, they do a bit of both. Mostly because Steve confesses that apart from driving a zamboni he’s always wanted to try and skate being pulled along behind one. So that’s a thing that happens. Steve even manages to do it without breaking his neck in the process. He does fall once, but since he’s put on a few of Tony’s extra practice pads it’s actually a whole lot gentler than falls that happen in a game.

And once they’ve grown bored with their zamboni games, there’s still some hockey to be played. It’s been years, maybe, since Steve’s laughed this hard. His sides ache as he collapses at center ice. He stares up at the roof and wishes life could always be this easy. Effortless happiness. He could get used to this.

*

Tony’s never been happier with a decision to bring someone home. At least a decision that wasn’t entirely based on sex.

It had been years since he’d had so much fun in the rink. Sure, Rhodey and Jenny are a lot of fun but Tony has to be careful with them. He can skate into Steve as hard as he likes and Steve is like a brick house on ice skates. They master the zamboni, skate hard into walls, hip check each other at every opportunity, wrestle over the puck like four-year-olds and break just about every hockey rule in the book.

They might even invent some rules in their one-on-one game, just so they can break those too.

Tony collapses next to Steve at the center of the rink and enjoys the chill from the ice below him. He’s sweaty and gross and still wearing a few parts of his fundraiser suit underneath his hockey gear. It’s great.

“And just think. This is only the end of the first period,” Tony teases.

Steve groans. “Does that make it time for the Dance Cam or the Kiss Cam or the Hockey Hockey Hockey song on your home ice?”

It’s only just out of his mouth when suddenly Steve seems to realize what he’s just said and he jerks up abruptly.

“Shit. Not-- I mean, that wasn’t... the crack about the Kiss Cam. I’m not gay for you or anything. I didn’t come back here for that,” Steve rambles.

He sounds so apologetic that Tony feels weirdly bad for him. Especially because Tony’d gotten the joke right away. He hadn’t taken it wrong. There’s no reason for Steve to feel like he’s made things awkward.

“You could have meant it,” Tony says. “And I still wouldn’t have been offended. I’m-- I know I have a reputation for being an asshole, but I’m not that kind of asshole. Honestly...”

Tony trails off. So many people don’t know this. And usually if they find out it’s after a whole stack of paperwork. But he trusts Steve. Trusts him implicitly.

“I’m bi,” Tony says. “It’s just never come up in the news because before I even think of asking a man back to my hotel room he’s got to sign a Non-Disclosure Agreement that would give Rumplestiltskin a hard-on. I’m pretty sure they’d owe me their firstborn child or something if they broke it. I’ve never actually read it beginning to end, but since my PA, Pepper, put it together I’m gonna guess it’s brutal.”

Steve just stares at him. His mouth opens and closes a few times. “What?”

“I’m bi,” Tony repeats again slowly. “I’ve just been reallllllllllly good at hiding it. And now I kind of wish I hadn’t. All this bad press-- I should have taken that hit. Made the way for guys like you.”

Steve shakes his head. “Don’t say that. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy.”

“And that's not me?” Tony asks.

Steve takes a few seconds to meet Tony’s eyes. “I was hoping maybe you would be a friend. And don’t worry. I won’t say a word. Not to anyone.”

Tony runs a hand through his hair to brush it away from his forehead. “I’m not ashamed,” Tony says. “Howard just thinks it would be better for my game to avoid distractions.”

Steve gives a sad chuckle. “He may have been onto something there.”

“I will never tell him you said that.”

*

They skate again after their chat. More slowly and without all the playful checking from before. It’s comfortable. And it’s late. Steve only realizes it when he yawns.

“You want to bunk over?” Tony asks. “I have a couple of guest rooms. I promise it won’t be a problem.”

“Not even if the press finds out?” Steve asks.

He hates that this is his life now. Can’t even crash at a friend’s house for fear of damaging their reputation.

“It’d probably do worse things to your reputation than to mine,” Tony says.

Which settles it. Steve stays. The guest room is huge and the bed is comfortable and Steve sleeps better than he has in weeks.

He expects Tony to be a late riser and isn’t exactly sure how he’s going to get home, but Tony is awake and he’s making coffee and toast when Steve walks into the kitchen.

“I’m surprised you’re awake,” Steve says.

Tony places a mug in front of Steve. “I’ve got a car coming for you in half an hour. I’d have taken you home myself but I’ve got company coming.”

Steve nods. “I should get going anyway. I left some dishes in the sink and if Bucky gets back before I stick them in the washer I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“You live with Barnes?” Tony asks.

Steve laughs at Tony’s surprised expression. “I do. We could afford nice places of own just fine, but we both like the company. He grew up in a big family in a noisy house, so he’s used to a crowd. I grew up alone and always wished there was someone around. I dunno. It just works for us.”

“I had a roommate in college,” Tony says. “He and his daughter are the company I’m expecting. And I can’t believe I’m saying this, but do you think you could do me a favor?”

Considering Tony’s got the nicest car Steve’s ever been in, a mansion, and his own ice rink, Stave has no clue what he could want. Still, Tony’s been nothing but nice to him since they properly met, so he nods.

“Sure.”

“It’s for my sort-of-niece. Rhodey’s kid, Jenny. She calls me Uncle Tony like I’m something important to her and she’s a big fan of Barnes. His biggest fan, maybe.”

Steve cocks an eyebrow.

“Trust me,” Tony continues. “I’ve done what I can to re-educate her, but she’s determined. And I would hit epic levels of cool if I could get her an autographed puck. I know I could buy one on ebay, but that’s not the same. Not to her, anyway. She’s a goalie for a traveling team. The Wildcats. And there’s no one for her but him.”

Now it’s Steve’s turn to be surprised. Sure, Bucky has more fans than just about anyone. He’s good-looking and hilarious and he’s the best goalie in the league. (Steve’s a goalie, too, but he won’t begrudge Bucky his talent, even for a second.) It’s more that Tony’s admitting he needs help with this. And that he wants to go out of his way to get something special for his sort-of-niece, even if it means asking Steve for a favor.

“You said her name’s Jenny?” Steve asks.

“J-E-N-N-Y,” Tony agrees.

“When do you need it?”

“Whenever,” Tony says. “Her birthday isn’t for another few months and I promised her a new pair of skates I’ve been working on for that. This is a gift just because she’s awesome.”

Steve smiles. “What about tomorrow? There’s a chance I’ll be reinstated Monday and I don’t want you to miss out. I could come back. Drop it off.”

“Let me see your phone,” Tony agrees. “You can text me when you know you’ve got a free coupla hours. As long as you’re sure it’s not an imposition.”

“It’s not,” Steve says, handing over his phone.

Tony taps across the screens expertly-- like he writes phone manuals in his free time-- and then hands the phone back to Steve.

“Gave myself a ringtone, too,” Tony says with a smirk. “That way you won’t have to wonder if it’s me.”

“Thanks?” Steve asks.

The car arrives a few minutes later, and Steve smiles the whole way home.


	2. Collaborate

Tony’s smiling when Rhodey and Jenny arrive.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Rhodey asks. “I’m feeling suspicious already.” Rhodey glances around like some kind of secret agent.

“Dad, can you stop being embarrassing for, like, three minutes?” Jenny asks.

She’s twelve and like Tony always says: she’s his favorite. Smart, hilarious, full of sass, and hell on skates when she plays hockey. There are already college teams looking at her, and Tony couldn’t be prouder of that if Jenny was his own.

“That’s my girl,” Tony says.

He opens his arms and Jenny doesn’t hesitate to step in for a hug.

“I don’t get why you like him so much,” Rhodey says. “I’m way cooler than this guy.”

“Don’t listen to him, JenJen. He’s jealous. He wishes he could be as cool as me.”

“You’re kind of embarrassing, too, Uncle Tony,” Jenny proclaims as she lets Tony go. “But you don’t pull up to my school blasting country music, so you’re doing better than dad.”

“Was it Shania Twain?” Tony asks.

“He was _singing_ ,” Jenny says as she nods. “He had the roof off the Jeep. Everyone could hear.”

Tony shakes his head. “I’d never do that to you.”

“No, because he’d be playing AC/DC and making it work over your school’s PA system. Do not trust this man. He’s a menace.”

Jenny looks at them both like they’ve lost their minds. “Mom’s right. You two deserve each other.”

Tony laughs at that one. Jenny’s mom is a gem. She and Rhodey had been little more than a one-night stand yet she’d made sure Rhodey could be as much a part of Jenny’s life as he could make work with the military. And probably more surprising, she’s always been supportive of Tony’s relationship with Jenny as well. Considers him an important part of Jenny’s life and texts Tony pictures every time Jenny wins a tournament or gets player of the game or enters a science fair.

“Your mother is smart,” Tony says. “You should always listen to her. You better tell her that I said that.”

“I will,” Jenny says. “Now can we skate or are you waiting for me to get old?”

God, Tony loves this kid.

They lace into their skates, throw on some pads, and hit the rink. Rhodey sticks to the outer edges, skating slow loops to keep warm. Jenny and Tony warm up at center ice, then Tony runs Jenny through drill after drill to work on her skills. She never complains. She never gives him attitude. On the ice, she knows who’s boss.

It’s a real shame Tony won’t let Howard get within a city block of her.

Sure, he’s the better coach. Tony is positive Howard would have some tips and tricks that Tony might lack. But he will never allow Howard to squeeze the joy out of hockey for his niece the way he’d done it to Tony.

Hockey is supposed to be fun. Outside of Tony’s private rink it hasn’t felt fun in a long time.

They stop for lunch about two hours in, and once they’re off the ice and out of their skates, Tony checks his phone. He’s got a text from Steve he hadn’t heard come in. When he sees it, he smiles.

“JennyLouWho, come look.”

He waits for her to join him and then lets her see his screen. It’s a picture of Bucky Barnes, looking like he just stepped off a team bus and into his front door, holding up a handwritten sign that reads “HI JENNY! GO WILDCATS!”

She doesn’t stop screaming for a full minute.

“Text that to me!” she begs. “And text it to mom! And to dad! You said you didn’t know him! Why-- how-- what? Wait. Just text it to me. Let me send it to everybody else, Taylor isn’t going to believe this. You are the _best uncle ever_!”

Tony texts the picture to her and she’s totally engrossed in her phone. It starts buzzing and beeping and her smile is everything Tony had hoped. This might actually be better than a puck, but Tony hopes that’s still coming too.

 **Tony:** I’m the best uncle ever. Thanks for that!

 **Steve:** I owed you for last night.

 **Steve:** Wait. That sounded wrong. For the benefit. I owed you for the benefit.

 **Tony:** And for beating you at hockey.

 **Steve:** Pretty sure I won with that last shot. And I thought you said we weren’t keeping score.

 **Tony:** Starks always keep score. I won. 26-24.

 **Steve:** That sounds made up.

 **Tony:** You just don’t want to admit you lost, Rogers. Should have known you’d be a sore loser after all that whining.

 **Steve:** Sounds like you’re looking for a rematch.

 **Tony:** I mean if you’re bringing the puck by anyway, seems like we might as well.

 **Seve:** You might regret this.

 **Tony:** I regret nothing.

“Dude, you’re smiling again,” Rhodey teases, as he comes to sit by Tony. “What’s up with that? You only smile like this when you’re--” Rhodey drops his voice “getting laid. And I thought we talked about you working on _you_ for a while. Not jumping into anything.”

He doesn’t need to worry. Jenny’s talking on her phone now, in progressively higher pitches.

“Not getting laid,” Tony says. “Made a friend.”

Rhodey looks confused and then grudgingly pleased. “Does this friend have something to do with that text from Bucky Barnes?”

“Yes,” Tony says. “I met Steve Rogers last night and we kind of hit it off. He came over and we skated for a bit. Nothing happened. It was just... nice. He and Barnes are roommates.”

“Wow,” Rhodey says. “Good for you. He seems like a good guy in all his interviews.”

“He is,” Tony says. “No clue why he’d wanna hang around with me, but I guess stranger things have happened.”

Jenny shrieks again and Rhodey slaps his hands to his thighs and pushes himself up off the bench.

“If we wait for her to finish, we’re not going to eat until dinner. She’ll find us when she’s hungry.”

They walk past Jenny and she beams up at them both, which puts another smile on Tony’s face that lasts long after they leave.

*

Steve goes for a run when he gets home, to clear his head, and to silently chant “Bi does not mean interested,” as his feet fall left, right, left, right, left.

He has no reason to believe Tony’s into him. Yes, they’d flirted. Yes, Tony brought up being bisexual. It didn’t _mean_ anything. It didn’t. Mean. Anything.

Steve ran until he was out of breath, and then walked the rest of the way to get himself back to his apartment. He showered and had just dressed and stepped out when he heard the front door. Two sets of footsteps.

It was no surprise that Clint would be with Bucky. They were thick as thieves these days and Barton spent the night as often as he didn’t. The guest room was pretty much his at this point.

“Steve!” Clint greets, while Bucky juggles a plastic bag with a few subs and locks the door.

“Was worried I’d come back to you moping,” Bucky says, once he turns. “Eating ice cream on the couch at noon in your boxers.”

“That was yesterday,” Steve admits. “I had a good night last night though. It helped.”

“At that charity shindig?” Bucky asks skeptically.

“After,” Steve clarifies. “Tony Stark was there and we hung after.”

“Tony Staaaaaaaark,” Clint says, with a grin. “Hot damn.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Steve says. “He’s not...”

There’s no way he’s going to out Tony, even to his two best friends. So he’s got to keep Tony’s confession to himself.

Bucky smacks Clint upside the head as he walks past him. “No chirpin' Stevie.”

“I wasn’t chirping anyone!” Clint protests.

“Thanks, Buck.” 

“Glad you made a friend,” Bucky says. “Even if it’s the one person in the league gettin’ more shit than you right now.”

“I feel bad for him,” Steve says. “He’s a lot different off the ice. Or-- well, we were on ice, but outside a game.”

“You were on ice?” Bucky asks in surprise.

“He has a rink.”

“Hot. Damn,” Clint says. “He’s into you.”

“He was just being nice,” Steve deflects.

“Dude took you back to his private rink late at night. That’s more than nice.”

“Does sound kind of intimate,” Bucky agrees.

“It was... something,” Steve sighs. “But can we not? I don’t think it’s a good idea to get my hopes up.”

“So there are hopes?” Bucky asks.

Steve always forgets how observant Bucky can be about every single word.

“He’s a looker,” Steve says with a shrug. “And he was nice to me. It doesn’t take a lot more than that these days.”

“Any chance he’s into guys?” Clint asks.

“I’ve never seen anything about him dating one on SportsCenter,” Steve says. “And experience tells me that’s the kind of thing ESPN likes to bring up.”

That makes Clint and Bucky’s faces go dark.

“I really hate those assholes,” Bucky complains. “They have plenty to say about Stark’s drinking, too, like it’s any of their business. You gonna see him again?”

“I’m supposed to go back over to Tony’s tomorrow,” Steve admits.

“Seriously?” Clint asks.

“But I need something from you,” Steve continues, looking toward Bucky. “A signed puck for his goddaughter. I guess she’s your biggest fan.”

“Seriously?” Bucky asks, repeating Clint in both word and facial expression.

Steve shrugs. “That’s what he said. She plays for one of the traveling teams around here. The Wildcats. Apparently she’s pretty good.”

“This is great,” Bucky says. “Tony Stark wants my autograph.”

“For a kid,” Clint rags.

“So you’ll do it?” Steve asks.

“Of course. We’ve got about a thousand pucks around here. Think I could spare one or two.”

“Two?” Steve asks.

“If he wants my autograph bad enough to invite you back over, figure I’ll send him one of his own,” Bucky says with a smirk.

Steve laughs. “He’ll love that, I’m sure. It’s too bad I don’t just carry them on me. He was seeing her this afternoon.”

“Oh! Want me to score you some big points?” Bucky asks. “Cause look at this.”

He grabs a marker from a drawer and a piece of paper Steve had laid out for sketching. Bucky prints HI JENNY! GO WILDCATS! on it then turns it toward Steve.

“Take a picture and you can show him tomorrow.”

“I can do better than that,” Steve says. “I can text it to him. He gave me his number.”

“Holy shit, he _is_ into you,” Clint insists.

“I’ve got your number. Are you into me?” Steve asks.

“You know it,” Clint says with a wink.

 

*

Tony recognizes his own good mood for what it is: a crush.

“Such a bad idea,” Tony mumbles to himself as he checks himself out in the mirror one more time.

Steve’s going to be by any minute. Tony’s been primping for an hour. He wouldn’t call it primping out loud, but his thoughts are less charitable. They tell it like it is.

When the doorbell rings, Tony has to force himself not to jog for it. He walks, like someone who hasn’t been picturing this moment for the last 24 hours, and opens it casually. 

His smile at the sight of Steve betrays all the chill he’s trying to portray.

“Come in,” Tony says, stepping aside. “Did you find your way back okay?”

“Kind of hard to miss,” Steve says with a grin. A dangerous grin, Tony thinks. A grin Tony wouldn’t mind waking up to. “Here, these are for you.”

“These?” Tony asks.

He takes the small Brooklyn Stars gift bag from Steve’s hand and opens it. The first puck is signed to Jenny. The second one is for him.

**To Tony Stark, my number 1 fan. Hang in there, sport! Someday you’ll get one past me! Bucky Barnes**

“Sorry about that,” Steve says. “Bucky thinks he’s funny.”

“This is awesome,” Tony insists. “Jenny’s going to love hers, and mine is going on display. Come on.”

Tony leads Steve through the house to the game room, where he has a whole wall of classic hockey memorabilia. His collection rivals what’s displayed in the Hockey Hall of Fame, only Tony’s is better, because almost everything is signed to him. He’d started collecting back when he was a kid and his dad was the best hockey player America had ever seen. And now Barnes’s puck is going front and center.

“Holy shit,” Steve says. “This is amazing. These guys were my heroes growing up.”

Steve’s hand hovers over a stick signed by Nick “Furious” Fury.

“You can pick it up,” Tony says. “I was pretty rough on some of this stuff when I was a kid. It was only when I got a little older that I understood how much it was worth.”

Not monetarily. Or yes-- it is worth a lot of money. But Tony more means how much it’s worth to him personally.

Steve holds the stick with reverence. “Do you mind if I take a picture of this so I can text it to the guys?”

“Enjoy,” Tony says.

He steps away so he won’t be in the frame. He watches as Steve smiles like a little kid, and moves on to holding up other sticks and pucks and Tony can’t help but smile. He’s smiled more in the last 48 hours than he’d smiled in the two months previous. Steve poses with another piece of memorabilia and then puts it back in its place carefully.

“Thank you,” he says. 

“Take one more for Barnes,” Tony says. “Or else he isn’t going to believe I put his puck in there.”

“You’re going to leave it?” Steve asks. “I thought... I mean I figured you wouldn’t. You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” Tony says. “He’s the best goalie in the league. No offense.”

Steve shakes his head. “It doesn’t bother me. I know I’m good and I know Bucky is better. People expect me to be jealous but it’s never bothered me.”

“I can’t imagine what that must be like,” Tony says. “I never felt like I could be anything but the best. Howard drilled it into my head: If you’re not first, you’re last. Didn’t make me popular but it did make me good.”

“I don’t know,” Steve says. “You seem pretty popular with your team.”

“Yeah. Well, not now obviously. Just when I was a kid.”

Except that’s not true. If he were popular, at least one of the assholes on his team would have bothered to call him or check in with him since his suspension. But no one had. No one cares that he’s gone, and if they do care at all, it’s just because they’re pissed they’ve lost a star player. It isn’t about Tony.

He’s not going to tell Steve that, though. He keeps it to himself like he keeps so much to himself these days. Instead he shoots Steve his most charming smile.

“You seem like you like me well enough.”

Steve chuckles at that. “Or maybe I’m just here to kick your ass at hockey.”

“Could be that,” Tony says. “In a hurry to lose?”

“Got nothing better to do with my day,” Steve says.

“In that case, let’s go.”

They play a game with something that actually resembles rules this time. Tony’s the better skater, and the better shooter, but Steve is obviously better at defense. Tony can’t help his running narrative that’s half smart-ass commentary and half game calling. By the end of the match it’s probably close but neither of them are keeping score.

This time they make it to the benches on the side of Tony’s rink before they collapse.

“I haven’t had this much fun playing in years,” Tony says.

That seems to catch Steve by surprise. “Me and Buck and Clint stay late some nights after practice,” Steve explains. “We goof off. Act like idiots. Reminds me of all the pick-up games I played as a kid.”

Pick-up games. Tony’s never played in one. Even in college. Outside of scheduled hockey time, Tony was studying. It was only after college that he got a social life, and for Howard-shaped reasons, he kept it as far from his hockey career as possible.

“Rhodey’s crap on ice,” Tony says simply. “Jenny’s got potential though. Sounds like I’ll be back on the team in a few days, but I’d already decided if I was out for the rest of the season I was going to see about coaching her team. Don’t know if anyone wants to let me around kids but I think she’d have liked it.”

He tries to say it offhandedly. Tries not to let it slip how much this idea appeals to him. Steve’s the only person he’s told this. And as soon as the words are out of his mouth, Tony flinches because he’s waiting for the disbelief. Waiting for Steve to explain why this is a shit idea. Except Steve’s face only brightens.

“That’d be amazing,” Steve says. “My dad-- he passed when I was a kid. My coaches were everything to me when I was in junior high. And you’d be so good at it.”

“Wait. What?” Tony asks.

Mostly because that’s so completely opposite to the reaction he was expecting.

“You’d be a great coach. The whole time we were playing just now, some of those comments you were making were kind of helpful. I know I shift my weight too much on slapshots. Coaches told me that for years before I moved to the goal. But none of them ever had much advice on how to fix it, except to tell me to stop. What you said about my hips... I don’t know. It felt better, even if we were only messing around.”

Tony looks out at the ice. “Seriously?”

“I’m a boy scout, remember?” Steve teases. “I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true.”

*

They both end up reinstated within the week. They don’t see each other again, but they text. Text every day. Enough that both Bucky and Clint notice right away, and the rest of the team notices by Steve’s third game back. Their third win in a row, after a cold streak while Steve was out. That’s all it takes for the tide of public opinion to turn. He’s back to being Brooklyn’s sweetheart.

“Texting someone special?” Sam Wilson, the Stars’ head athletic trainer, asks.

The team’s gone out for a drink on their night off. Tony’s team is out of town in Orlando. It was an afternoon game so by 8, Tony’s blowing up Steve’s phone.

“Just a friend,” Steve says.

He smirks down at the screen as Tony explains in great detail how terribly, horrendously boring Orlando is while sober.

 **Steve:** You could go to Disney. Or Harry Potter World. You’re in ~Orlando~.

 **Tony:** Banned. From Disney at least.

 **Steve:** Seriously?

 **Tony:** Google is your friend. Use the Google. I am not explaining this story over text.

Steve tilts his head. 

“Earth to Rogers, come in Rogers,” Sam says, giving his friend (and more than occasional patient) an elbow. “Seriously. You look in this deep. Spill.”

Steve shakes his head. “I can’t. It’s just-- a friend.”

But as he googles Tony Stark Disney Ban, he knows Sam’s right. He’s in this deep.

*

The way their seasons lined up, Steve and Tony’s team had played early in the season and they won’t play again unless they make it to the playoffs. Which seems more and more likely as the next few weeks pass.

Steve’s setting some career records. Tony’s on the path to set some league records. They’re both way too busy to meet up. At least until the week between when the regular season ends and their playoffs begin.

Now Tony’s at home, trying to ignore the butterflies in his stomach, because Starks don’t get nervous, they just don’t.

He’s absolutely not pacing. Or checking his phone what feels like every two minutes to see only 10 seconds have passed. And he doesn’t jump at the sound of the doorbell and force himself to wait a few beats before walking in that direction.

Or if he does, no one will ever know.

He goes for a certain level of chill when he opens the door, and it’s immediately lost the second he actually sees Steve. They’ve been texting so much, Tony’s completely forgotten exactly what being close to him feels like.

He means to say “Hey.” He means to say “Good to see you.” He means to say “Thanks for stopping by.”

He says nothing. Somehow Tony manages to kick the door closed and then they’re crashing into a wall, kissing, touching, grabbing. It’s rough, a little like hockey, but there’s no parting here. No hip check and skating away. Tony never wants to let Steve go. Ever.

It’s only the necessity to breathe (pesky air) that separates them, and even then it’s only their faces. At some point they’ve turned and it’s Steve pinning Tony against the wall and they just stay there.

“Hey,” Tony breathes out. “Missed you.”

Steve smiles, and bites his bottom lip looking flushed and disastrous. “Missed you too.”

*

They do eventually move to a bedroom. And when hunger drives them to order pizza, Tony gets all the way to the front door to pay for it, and all the way back to the kitchen, before they’re touching again. This time it’s Tony playfully bumping Steve as he walks past him.

“Was this... I mean was this what you hoped would happen?” Steve asks.

“Didn’t want to make assumptions,” Tony says. “Just because you’re gay didn’t mean you were gay for me. What about you? Was this why you stopped by?”

“I stopped by to see a friend,” Steve says. “A friend I knew I wanted more with. Just didn’t want to make assumptions.”

Now it’s Tony’s turn to smile. “Assume away.”

*

They end up in the rec room to eat. And once the conversation gets started, it’s like texting but better. Better because Tony’s sure now how Steve feels. He can flirt openly without concern that he’ll put Steve off, or reveal something more than Steve wants to know. And he trusts Steve. Of everything, that’s what Steve can give him that no one else has, for a long, long time.

“You didn’t make me sign anything,” Steve says as he’s closing the pizza box.

“For the pizza?” Tony asks, not quite getting what Steve’s going for.

“No. The NDA. You said your assistant drew them up for you and that you always made people sign them. Where’s mine?”

“It’d be a little late for that now,” Tony points out. “And I trust you. I thought about it, after the first time you came over. I realized that you were the kind of person I could see wanting around more often. And for it to work-- it couldn’t be something I was enforcing with paper. It just seemed... draining.”

Steve nods. “A couple of the guys have asked who I’m texting, but Clint and Bucky are the only ones who know. I wanted to tell Sam Wilson, the team athletic trainer? I know I can trust him. But I wasn’t sure... I mean we’ve been kind of vague about what we want. Until today.”

Tony reaches out for Steve’s hand and when Steve takes his, he pulls him down next to him on the couch.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure after today I know exactly what I want.”

*

Steve doesn’t leave until Sunday evening. It makes for two of the best days of Tony’s adult life. Steve’s not just some guy Tony’s got in his bed, he means something. They’re friends. Yes, the sex is top notch but it’s so much more and Tony really doesn’t know what to do with that.

He’s happy. He’s secure. He’s got hope for a happier future.

So of course, Howard ruins it.


	3. And Listen!

Steve’s a little worried when Tony doesn’t text any more that night. But maybe he was tired and he’d gone to bed. They’d definitely kept each other busy. When there’s no text the next morning, Steve breaks down and texts first.

 **Steve:** Hey. Everything okay?

 **Tony:** Howard saw you leave the house.

 **Steve:** Shit. Are you alright?

 **Tony:** I can’t talk right now. Later.

 **Steve:** Okay. Soon though please?  
(Seen 10:02 AM)

Steve doesn’t hear from Tony again until almost midnight.

 **Tony:** He said he’s going to wreck your career if I don’t end this. And bench me for the season.

 **Steve:** Yeah, well fuck him what’s he going to do to my career?

Steve hits send and that’s the end of it. He can see that Tony saw the message, but there’s no reply.

*

“Did you end it?” Howard asks.

It’s breakfast. Tony’s not terribly interested in eating but Howard’s slid a bowl of oatmeal in front of him and Tony is chewing it methodically.

He’s a grown man. It doesn’t have to be like this. He can tell Howard to fuck off and he can apologize to Steve and maybe it’s not too late. Maybe.

“I asked you a question,” Howard says.

Tony looks up from his food. “I texted him. I explained it wasn’t going to work out.”

“Good,” Howard says. “I don’t understand why you keep getting yourself into these situations, Tony. You could be the greatest player the game has ever seen. Do you understand that? Can you get it through your thick head what kind of responsibility that is? To our name? To our legacy?”

“Bench me,” Tony says, dropping his spoon. “I’m finished.”

“Stop being dramatic,” Howard scolds.

“Me? I’m the one being dramatic? You’re the one who walked in here, told me to end the first happy relationship I’ve had in years, and then threatened to set fire to the guy’s career if I didn’t. Steve deserves better than that.”

“Then he deserves better than you,” Howard says. “Because whether it’s me blackballing him with the owners, or it’s you, and your reputation, dragging him through the press, the end result is the same: You keep this up and his career is over.”

Tony shoves hard at the table, sending it back a few inches and slopping some of Howard’s coffee out of his mug.

“Such a waste,” Howard says as he stands.

Tony’s not sure if he’s talking about the coffee or about him. He doesn’t ask.

*

“Dude, a _haaaaaat triiiiiiick_ ,” Rhodey shouts into the phone.

He’s happy. Tony can hear it in his voice. And Tony’s not happy at all but he does try and pull his shit together long enough to have this conversation.

“You were watching,” Tony says.

“Jenny texted me updates through the first two periods, but I got back to my place in time to see the third. You were on fire out there.”

“Yeah. I was,” Tony agrees.

He’d taken every ounce of his anger at Howard and he’d put it into his game. Scored three goals. The whole arena was electrified. Tony’d never felt so fucking alone.

“What’s wrong?” Rhodey asks.

“Nothing,” Tony says. “Tired.”

“Bullshit. What’s going on?”

Rhodey’s concern is all it takes to break Tony. At least he’s alone in his hotel room where a breakdown isn’t going to cause him any trouble. Isn’t going to fuck things up. And Rhodey’s the only one who hears Tony cry.

“Shit. I’m gonna be on the first flight.”

“Don’t,” Tony says. “You hate Cleveland.”

“Yeah, but I love you,” Rhodey says. “You’re there till tomorrow morning?”

“I’ll be back in New York tomorrow afternoon. You can see me then.”

“Nope. See you in a few hours. You hang tight until then. Stay right where you are, promise me?”

“Promise,” Tony agrees.

The knowledge that Rhodey’s on his way is the only thing that keeps Tony out of trouble.

*

“Man, fuck him,” Sam rails. “I’ll go punch Howard Stark right in his face.”

“That’s not going to fix anything,” Steve sighs.

He’s defeated. He’d just played one of the best games of his life and he can’t enjoy the victory. Which is why he, Sam, Clint and Bucky are all piled onto his hotel bed, which is filled with every snack Bucky and Clint could snag from the vending machine down the hall.

“Have a HoHo,” Clint prods. “You’ll feel better if you eat something.”

“I ate,” Steve shrugs.

“Half a chicken breast isn’t dinner. Eat,” Bucky insists. “We’ve been watchin’ you not eat for a week.”

“I’m not hungry,” Steve says. “I had Sam figure up my calories and I’ve been getting enough.”

“I’d like to state for the record that Sam did not know why he was doing this bullshit,” Sam inserts.

“I’m not hungry. I’m not-- anything,” Steve argues.

Tony won’t return his calls. Won’t even read the texts anymore. And Steve’s lost everything except his game.

“You guys should go,” Steve adds. “Have fun. You don’t need to be in here moping with me.”

Clint flops on Steve dramatically. “Nope. One for all--”

“And all for one,” Sam and Bucky say in unison, piling onto Clint and Steve.

Okay. So maybe Steve does have more left than what happens on the ice.

*

“Coming next on IceTalk Weekly: Should more teams start suspending for less? If Tony Stark and Steve Rogers are any proof, the answer is yes. Stark was out for alcohol, and Rogers for a fight off the ice, and you know what they have in common? Their return to the game has brought with it the kind of hockey play I haven’t seen in 30 years. Stay tuned for an in-depth analysis.”

*

“Fuuuuuuck,” Tony complains. 

He’s black and blue in places that haven’t been black and blue since he was in Junior Hockey. He’s been playing like he’s got nothing to lose, and the scores and his injuries seem to speak for themselves.

“Good game,” Howard says, swatting Tony on the shoulder as he walks past. “That’s what I like to see out there.”

The head athletic trainer frowns, but keeps his mouth shut until Howard walks away.

“Tony, I’m concerned,” Bruce says carefully. “You can’t keep this up.”

“This is the playoffs. I don’t have far to go.”

“You’re right. You don’t have far to go,” Bruce insists. “Are you even wearing your pads out on the ice at this point?”

Tony glares to let him know what a stupid question that is.

“Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. I just got off the phone with Sam Wilson. They’ve got a goalie out for the rest of the season.”

Tony’s chest tightens. 

_Please don’t be Steve. Please don’t be Steve._

“Which one? What happened?”

“Barnes,” Bruce sighs. “He had his glove on a puck that got smacked free. Somehow took Barnes’s glove with it, and someone got tripped up. Skated over Barnes’s palm and nearly cut him clean through.”

“Shit.”

“They got him to a hospital but it’s not looking good. He’ll be lucky if they don’t have to take his fingers off entirely. And Tony-- that’s what I’m worried is going to happen to you. Maybe not your fingers, but _something_. You’ve got to stop being so cavalier about your safety.”

“Great talk, doc,” Tony says, giving Bruce a false smile. “Talk to me after we’ve won the Cup and I’ll think about it. For now I’ve got to go.”

Tony can’t get to his phone fast enough. He’s been ignoring Steve’s texts and there haven’t been any new ones in days. He taps out a message and hits send before he can talk himself out of it.

*

 **Tony:** Heard about Barnes. Anything I can do? (Seen 11:49 PM)

Tony gets no reply.

*

Sometimes Steve wishes their league was structured a little more like the other Hockey Leagues. A best of seven series sounds great right about now.

But no. They’ve got a one game final, so winner takes all. It’s bad ‘cause Bucky’s out. It’s bad because they’re playing Tony’s team. And it’s bad because if Steve can’t keep his shit together for the next three periods, it’s gonna be the biggest loss the Stars have ever experienced.

Three periods.

He can do it. He’s got to do it. He’s promised Bucky nothing’s getting past him tonight.

When he spots Tony in warmups it’s the first time he’s laid eyes on him since the weekend everything went wrong. It was one weekend. Why is he still so hung up over this?

Someone from his own team fires a puck at him and Steve’s hand shoots out and snatches it out of the air like it’s nothing. He swats it to the ground and Clint comes skating toward him like a madman.

“Holy shit, that was _awesome_. You’ve got this. Okay? You’ve got this.”

Steve does.

In 57 minutes of game play, he only lets one puck by him, and it’s a top shelf, glove side goal from the point. He stops every other attempt and it sets the Stars up for a score of 1 to 1. Steve barely notices Tony on the ice now. He’s got eyes for the puck and that’s it. He’s making saves that are going to light up the highlight reels for years to come. It’s the game of his career. He’s playing for himself, yes, and his upset at Tony is giving him a sort of laser-focus, too, and he wants to win this for Bucky.

Has to win this for Bucky.

Two minutes left. Clint scores. The stands go wild. 2-1, Stars.

The next minute and a half are a blur. Steve’s played in some intense games. They don’t even compare to this. And then Tony breaks away.

One second stretches into something out of time. It’s just the two of them. The crowd, their teammates, the whole world fades away.

Tony shoots and Steve throws himself horizontal. The whole arena takes a simultaneous gasp and 

THUD.

A roar rises from the bleachers.

There are only two seconds left and then it’s over.

Steve did it. He _did_ it. The Stars win.

His teammates pile on top of him, into a writhing mass of gloves and skates and asses. There’s laughter and cheers and everything’s a blur all the way up through 2 in the morning. He reeks of champagne and every piece of him is sticky and gross and when he collapses into the chair next to Bucky’s hospital bed, he’s exhausted and just wants to sleep.

“Turn on IceTalk,” Bucky says.

“Not nooooow. Sleep now,” Steve insists.

“Turn on damn IceTalk,” Bucky says, making a slapping motion toward Steve to spur him into action. “They’re playing the same thing over and over.”

“My awesome save?” Steve guesses.

“Sort of. Just turn it on. You’ll see.”

“Fine, you’re impossible but fine,” Steve grumbles.

“Congratulations, by the way,” Bucky adds. “Probably should've led with that.”

“Yeah, well. Better late than never.”

*

Tony is sure Steve’s going to miss the puck. It’s a perfect shot. Fast, accurate. A biscuit in the basket, then they can move on with their lives.

THUD.

The sound reverberates in Tony’s ears as loud as the answering roar. Steve caught the puck. The game is lost. It’s over.

It’s a quiet skate off the ice, and an even quieter walk down the hall to the locker room. Tony doesn’t say a word as he strips, showers, then changes into a suit for his postgame interview. Losing sucks. Losing to Steve sucks worse.

Not wanting to play hockey anymore is the worst of all, but he doesn’t. Not because of the loss. Not because of this game. Not because of anything revolving around the championship. This isn’t what Tony wants. And it’s hard to say goodbye this way.

It’s hard to say goodbye at all.

He hasn’t told anyone yet, and that’s the rub. He plans to get through the night’s interviews with as little hoopla as possible and then in a week he’s going to announce his retirement. He’s going to change his life. Focus on what makes him happy. He’s going to--

Tony doesn’t have a chance to finish his thought as he’s grabbed by the arm and spun around roughly.

“Did you miss that on purpose?” Howard hisses. “Or did I just raise a loser?”

“Raised a loser,” Tony says. “I made the best shot I could, dad.”

Howard scoffs. “Then you’re right. I raised a loser.”

Tony stares after Howard’s back as his father marches off. He knows Howard’s upset. Tony’s upset. But it’s the last straw in a series of last straws. He’s not waiting to make his announcement. He’s not wasting one more second of his life on the opinions of a man who does. not. care.

*  
Steve watches as Tony begins to speak, though the scrolling text at the bottom of the screen explains everything Steve needs to know.

\-----------------------------------------  
Tony Stark Surprises With Post-Game Retirement Announcement  
\-----------------------------------------

“This isn’t because of the loss,” Tony begins. “Both teams played hard and I’m proud of our effort. I’m proud of my own effort. This isn’t about that. I just think it’s time. Time to learn to live a life outside of hockey. Time to coach my niece through her junior hockey years and to spend time with the people who mean the most to me. Time to get my priorities in order.”

It looks like Tony’s going to stop there, but then he speaks again. This time his eyes flick straight to the camera.

“I’ve gained a lot of perspective this season. And while gaining that perspective I made a few major mistakes. Some are public knowledge, and others not so much. I’m not sure what can be fixed and what I’m going to have to live with, but-- for the first time in a long time, I have hope that things can get better. Hope in second chances and fixed mistakes.”

“Can you elaborate on that?” a reporter in the front row calls out.

“Nope,” Tony says, with a shrug. “I can’t. Thank you and goodnight.”

Tony stands from his seat and walks off the stage. None of his teammates turn to say goodbye. Howard is on the end, his face blank but his posture angry. Tony doesn’t care.

Tony’s free.

*

 **Jenny:** YOU’RE GOING TO COACH MY TEAM???

 **Rhodey:** Good speech. Made me proud. See you tomorrow?

 **Howard:** Hope you’re happy with this latest stunt. We won’t be speaking until you straighten this out.

 **Bruce:** Good for you. Want to get lunch some day this week?

Tony shuts off his phone. He appreciates the support from his friends, he really does. And he’s sure not going to lose any sleep over a break from his dad. But he’s exhausted and he kind of can’t believe he did it. He really did it.

*

Steve pauses with his hand to the door. There’s a doorbell. He could ring it. But doorbells can be startling and he doesn’t want to startle Tony. He just... just wants to talk.

It’s 4 am, this is such a bad idea.

Steve lowers his hand. Then lifts it. Then lowers it.

He’s incredibly glad Bucky and Clint and Sam don’t know this is happening or he’d never live it down.

He lifts his hand one more time and knocks. The wait is awful.

He’s really not sure if it was loud enough to wake Tony up, and this is a mansion, and he should just ring the bell. Except now he can’t ring the bell because he already knocked.

_Fuuuuuuuck._

Steve hasn’t felt this unsure in a long time. Like there’s no right answer. Like he doesn’t know what he wants or why he’s here or how to use a damn door. He’s almost convinced himself to leave and try this again at a normal hour and also use the bell when the door swings open.

Tony stares at him, looking sleep-rumpled and confused.

“I can come back,” Steve says. “It’s late. We could talk tomorrow. I wasn’t thinking.”

Steve gestures toward the night in some kind of non-verbal explanation of his actions.

“No. Please,” Tony says, in a sort of urgent rush. Like he’s afraid Steve’s going to bolt. “Please come in. I need to apologize. Profusely. For being a giant dick. It won’t take long.”

Steve considers it. That’s what he wanted. Or-- well, he’s not sure what he’d wanted before. It’s what he wants now.

He steps around Tony and enters the house.

“You got any coffee?” Steve asks.

“The best Keurig money can buy,” Tony agrees.

Steve kicks off his shoes and then follows Tony into the kitchen. Tony pulls down two mugs and starts up the fancy little machine.

“I’m sorry,” Tony says, as he turns to face Steve. “I was an ass. Such a giant ass, and I don’t deserve your forgiveness for that but if you’d consider it-- I’d like to make it up to you. Fix things. Or at least end things in a way that isn’t incredibly shitty and terrible. I mean you’re here. That’s-- that’s something, right?”

Steve reaches up to rub at the back of his neck, which is now aching from the strain of trying to wrap his brain around all this.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” Steve admits. “You really hurt me.”

“I’m shitty,” Tony says. “I never meant to make you think otherwise.”

“Don’t,” Steve says. “I don’t want to hear you talk about yourself like that. I just want an explanation. A real explanation.”

“I suck,” Tony says helplessly. “Really. That’s the explanation. I wish I had something better for you, I really do. I just-- I didn’t want to take you down with me. And I knew-- I knew I was going down. I knew that’s where we were going.”

Steve lets the words sit in the air. As excuses go, it’s terrible. He doesn’t think Tony’s lying, though. To Tony, that’s the truth. It really is that simple.

“Don’t you think that ought to be my choice to make?” Steve asks.

“You’re too nice,” Tony says. “You’d have made the wrong call.”

“That’s bullshit,” Steve protests. “Completely unfair. What about second chances? What about forgiveness?”

Tony chews at his bottom lip. “I don’t deserve it. Probably wasn’t fair for me to ask.”

“Please, for the love of all that is holy, stop trying to push me away and just tell me what you want,” Steve says. “I know what I want. I know what I think you want. But I need words. Real words. Actual communication.”

Tony makes a helpless sort of huff. Steve can see he’s trying, so he waits it out. Stays quiet.

“I want you to forgive me,” Tony says, his whole demeanor so worriedly vulnerable it nearly kills Steve. “I want to give us a shot. I want to be happy.”

Tony stammers over the last word.

“Come ‘ere,” Steve says. 

Tony’s reasons are enough. They aren’t perfect, but they’re a start.

Steve opens up his arms and Tony only hesitates for a moment before he crosses the distance between them and buries his face in Steve’s shirt. Steve wraps his arms around him and pulls him close. They stay like that until the coffee maker beeps.

Steve lets Tony go.

“I’d like to talk,” Steve says. “I’ve got some things to say and I want you to hear them. I don’t want to just gloss over all this.”

Tony nods. “Okay. Whatever you want.”

*  
They don’t talk for long. They’re exhausted from the game and the late hour and the weight of it all. Steve sleeps in a guest room. Tony tosses and turns and hates the hollow space in his bed. Steve should be there. Tony completely understands why he isn’t, but it doesn’t make the empty pillow taunt him less.

At least there’s hope now that sometime in the future, things might not be so lonely around here.

Eventually Tony falls asleep and it’s nearly 9 when he wakes. He fully expects Steve to be gone, but he’s not. Tony smells bacon and coffee and hears voices. Two voices.

Rhodey. Right. Of course he’d come over first thing.

Tony pulls on a hoodie over his pajamas and goes to join two of the most important people in his life.

“And here I told Steve we wouldn’t see you until noon,” Rhodey greets.

“I had incentive to get out of bed,” Tony says. 

“Smelled the bacon?” Steve asks.

“Yes. But that’s not why I’m up.”

Both men look at Tony expectantly and Tony rolls his eyes in mock exasperation.

“You’re going to make me say it?” Tony asks.

“The man’s earned a lot of words,” Rhodey points out.

“I’m out of bed before noon because I wanted to see you,” Tony says.

He walks over to Steve and kisses him on the cheek. “Is this okay?” Tony whispers.

“It’s more than okay,” Steve says. “It’s exactly what I want.”

*

Bucky’s recovery takes half the summer. He’s met Tony a dozen times, but always because Tony’s come to his and Steve’s place. Usually with food (which makes Tony a decent catch in Bucky’s opinion). Today, the whole crew is going to Tony’s rink to play hockey. It’ll be Bucky’s first time back on the ice.

“I call first pick!” Clint calls.

“Who died and made you Captain?” Bucky complains. “This is my first game in forever.”

“Fine,” Clint says as he finishes lacing on his skates. “You can be Captain.”

“And you get first pick, Barnes,” Tony offers. “It’s only fair.”

They all skate to center ice, and Bucky looks over their assembled friends. There’s really only one choice that makes sense.

“I pick Jenny,” Bucky says. “Unless you want to play on your Uncle Tony’s team? Wouldn’t blame you, kid.”

Jenny’s happy scream reverberates across the ice. “No! No, your team! I’ll be on your team!”

She skates to Bucky at break-neck speed. 

“That’s my girl!” Rhodey calls from off the ice.

Steve’s the Captain of the other team, and Tony’s his first pick. Tony beams at him as he joins his side, and Sam makes loud gagging noises. Which gets him picked by Bucky. Clint goes to Tony’s team and that’s it. Three on three.

They’ve got Jenny in the game and Sam’s a better trainer than a player, but it’s still a rough game. Jenny’s got pads and a low center of gravity so she gets in some body checks that make all the guys cheer.

It’s Bucky’s first time with the new glove Tony had designed for him. It turns out Tony’s been designing shit for years that no one ever knew about. And now that he’s out of the game, it’s a full-time gig, or it would be a full-time gig if he hadn’t been absolutely serious about coaching his niece.

And from what Bucky can tell, Stark’s doing an excellent job. It’s very possible Steve over-reaches for her slapshot on purpose, or maybe the kid’s just that good.

Bucky knows Steve will never tell.

*

“I never thought this was going to happen,” Tony says, unable to keep the wonder out of his voice as he joins Steve on the couch.

Everyone’s gone. They’d eaten lunch and gone their separate ways and now Tony and Steve are alone and all Tony wants is to rest against his boyfriend. His media-official, released a joint statement, spend every day off together, boyfriend.

“Which ‘this’ do you mean?” Steve asks after he presses a kiss to Tony’s cheek.

Tony considers the question. “Happy. I never thought I could be this happy.”

Steve smiles at that. “Well, you’d better get used to it. I intend to keep you very happy for as long as you let me.”

“How’s forever sound?” Tony asks.

He doesn't resist at all as Steve drags him down against the cushions and pins him there. Steve's response is muffled in Tony's neck, but Tony can hear him well enough to be filled with a warm, pleasant glow. 

“Forever sounds good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are always appreciated!
> 
> <3

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me at [OrbingArrow](http://orbingarrow.tumblr.com) and squee with me about all these boys! I always follow back and there's nothing I love more than a pretty GIF of someone mentioned in this story! Let us GIF together! <3


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